


A Cup of Tea

by DeCarabas



Series: Fugitives Together [20]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Act 2, Dragon Age Quest: Night Terrors, Gen, Self-Acceptance, or rather he's starting to get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9341279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeCarabas/pseuds/DeCarabas
Summary: "I have tried to avoid the Fade since Justice... It's disturbing when he takes over."But the Fade trip is a turning point for Anders.





	

Stepping out of Arianni’s house, the light seems too bright, not quite the right color, and Anders puts up his hand to block it out. He takes a deep breath of air filled with the slightly sour scent of the alienage, focuses on that. The Fade never does manage to get the scents right.

“Hey.” Hawke nudges his shoulder. “You all right?”

Is he? He’s not sure.

* * *

The rest of the household is already asleep when Anders makes his way down to the kitchen that night, fills the kettle with water and wraps it in warmth with a touch of his hands until it starts to boil. Finding the herbs that’ll send him into dreamless sleep requires digging through the shelves, and he still feels a little strange about doing that, still trying to figure out exactly where the lines lie.

 _It’s your home too_ , Hawke keeps telling him.

His own things are mostly still in the clinic, and he’s wrapped in a red robe that’s too loose and that smells like Hawke, and he’s been tiptoeing around trying not to wake anyone. But the nightly routine is familiar, and there’s a mug that’s become his, and he finds he’s smiling to himself.

There’s no magic in the herbs he uses, and a tea for dreamless sleep can’t keep demons away forever; he’d warned Arianni about that when he gave her the recipe. But it’s good for a couple hours of restful sleep, good for apprentices with a bad habit of setting their bunks on fire, and in his case, good for avoiding the occasional nights of memories that aren’t exactly his.

Or rather, avoiding the mornings afterward, when he hasn’t quite woken up yet and the sky looks wrong and he’s not sure which _he_ he is. The dreams themselves aren’t so bad, really.

He leans against the kitchen wall and closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of steeping herbs.

Three years of being so careful to stay out of the Fade, being careful even with his dreams, and then he’d gone and volunteered to walk right in, for Andraste’s sake. And it had been fine. It had been all right. Disturbing, letting Justice take over, thinking Justice’s thoughts, speaking with Justice’s voice—but that was all.

He rubs at the back of his neck, remembering the warmth of Hawke’s hand in the Fade, reaching out for him, for Justice, for whoever Hawke had seen in him in that moment.

He opens his eyes again, watches the steam rise from his nightly cup of tea to keep the Justice dreams away. And then he pours it down the drain. Maybe he can try doing without it tonight.


End file.
